A/N: Thanks so much for following/reviewing, guys! I'm so sorry about the taking down/editing of chapters, I'M DONE NOW, I promise! Just being ridiculous and a perfectionist.

Chapter One: The Sleeping Dog

"Boys? Honestly, it's quarter to eleven. There's tea on the table for you."

Sirius woke up with a start. His heart was pounding, but he felt a flood of relief at being brought back to warm, summery, real life. He forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply as Mrs. Potter's footsteps disappeared down the hall. His own solid weight in the featherbed mattress on the floor of James' room was extraordinarily comforting after the disjointed chaos of his dreams.

He blinked and let his eyes rest on the window, where golden sunlight was pouring into the room through thin Griffindor-red curtains. His dreams had not quite left him yet, and he shook himself mentally, trying to clear his hazy mind of the confused mass of feelings and images that lingered there.

The warm blanket of the sun on his back the afternoon they finished their O.W.L's coupled with the bone-deep satisfaction of lazing around post-exam with his fellow Mauraders. The ever-perturbing human interruption that was Snivellus Snape. Twinges of guilt as he indulged himself in a bit of Snape-baiting, after he promised himself he would lay off, after… everything. The human fire-storm, Lily Evans, raging in to Snivellus' rescue. Twinges of respect for Lily Evans for possessing morals Sirius feared he himself might never have.

Sirius rolled onto his side, feeling suddenly suffocated by the combination of the sunlight, his thin blanket, and the thought of Lily Evans first thing in the morning. The second part of his dream was starting to replay in his mind, and it was much less welcome than the first.

The absolute stillness of the Hogwarts grounds after midnight, punctuated by the shaken and heavy breathing of himself, James, and Snape. The absolute beauty of the Hogwarts grounds after midnight, bathed in the darkness and brightness of a full and heavy moon. James, absolutely serious and frightfully angry, demanding to know what the 'bloody fucking hell' Sirius was thinking. James, looking at him with wary eyes, realizing perhaps for the first time, what the Black name really means.

He had always been a much-too-vivid dreamer, which often meant re-living the most intense moments of his life over and over again in the sleepworld. The final part of his dream came back to him with an ache, and he brought a hand to his chest over his heart- still feeling the traces of that indescribable feeling deep inside his gut. It also meant experiencing completely insane and fantastical things as if they were real life.

Sitting by the common room fire, blessedly warm and blessedly alone. The cushy couch sagging as someone else sits lightly down. The bloody brilliance of firelight shining in auburn hair, and in dancing green eyes. Feeling suddenly, stupidly drunk, but not being able to remember drinking a single thing. A sweet, wordless hand on his chest, over his heart. A feeling so indescribable and so powerful rising in his gut, that if he could let himself go, his heart might just happily explode...

Oh, God. He let out a shaky breath through his nose as the full sensory picture of the final part of the dream swept over him again. It was such an entirely warm, sweet, and thrilling picture that he felt a hollow dullness in his chest when he finally summoned his usual bravado, and forced it from his mind. He exhaled again. He was beginning to feel anxiety about all of this.

He could feel the comforting presence of James, lying not three feet away, and guilt began to gnaw at him.

He lay stone still and powerless as memories of dream, after dream, after dream from this month alone washed over him. His heart rate doubled, and he gripped the light summer blanket tightly in shock, overwhelmed by a rush of lust and passion so intense, it made him dizzy. Swallowing hard, he willed his body to calm down, and his mind to tear itself away from the impossibly alluring recollections.

A year of this. It had been a year. Longer, actually, if he was being fair. That first damned dream had come about a year ago, but he had pinpointed the very day that Lily Evans elbowed her unwelcome way into his subconscious to the day of their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. nearly a year and a half ago. More images from that cursed afternoon flashed through his mind, and he wondered briefly if this was his penance for tormenting Snape one time too many. He wasn't sure which had been his downfall; those few short seconds where he had really noticed Lily Evans, or three months later when that first dream had taken hold of him. Either way, he rued both.

Glowering, he ripped his blankets off. Thoughts of Snape, the human cold shower, had at least insured that he would not be having any indecent thoughts for hours to come.

James was stretching with what Sirius felt was a very dramatic yawn, and the motion dragged his mind out of the past year and back into James' sunlit room. Just leave it Padfoot, he told himself, trying to stand in for James as role of his own optimistic confidant, you haven't done anything wrong, mate. At least not in the areas that you have any control over. He let it go, to a degree, and propped himself up on his elbows to greet James once the latter had slid his glasses on,

"AH," exclaimed James as flamboyantly as one can with a groggy morning voice, blinking like a madman through his spectacles "there you are, Padfoot, old boy! A very splendid morning to you- I trust you had good dreams? I thought I heard you muttering a while ago," he waggled devilish eyebrows at Sirius, "paying Rachel Bones a visit perhaps...?"

Sirius grinned, "McGonagall actually. I fear I have outgrown all the girls at Hogwarts, Prongs, dear boy."

James grinned too, looking thoughtful, "She would look so fetching in a Black marital portrait."

Sirius snorted, imagining Minerva McGonagall posing for a traditional Black family marital portrait, in which the bride (in what Sirius had always tried to point out was a disgusting display of male ownership) wore a corset and petticoat, and either stood obediently at the groom's side or (as in his parent's case) sat lavishly across his lap. How that demonstrated strength and loyalty, he would never know. He chuckled darkly, and pulled himself out of bed,

"Right. I need that tea now."

Mrs. Potter was as good to them as ever, and Sirius' heart leapt at the sight of the two steaming red mugs sitting on the table in what he considered to be a downright beautiful way. He let out a moan of longing as he beelined for his cup, and heard James chuckle behind him,

"I think you may have a bit of an unhealthy addiction there, mate."

Sirius let his eyes slide closed in euphoria as he took his first sip, then fixed James with a stern raised eyebrow,

"Nonsense."

Mrs. Potter's tea was one of about four hundred reasons that Sirius considered the Potter residence to be heaven on earth. Strong, sweet, and milky, it had a nutty flavor that made him think of Christmas at Hogwarts, and was charmed to always be the perfect hot temperature. He could feel it instantly waking up his groggy body and mind, and smiled happily into the depths of the red porcelain mug. He surfaced to see James looking at him with pointed amusement,

"What! Your mum's tea is Merlins gift to the Wizarding World and you know it," Sirius leaned in conspiratorially, "I think she puts Cheering Charms in here."

James snorted and Sirius gave a triumphant cry,

"You feel it too Prongs?- There she is! The Sorceress among mere Witches-"

Mrs. Potter chuckled, entering the house through the vanishing backdoor in the kitchen. Her arms were piled high with fresh fruits, vegetables, and various magical plants that mingled to produce a most intriguing mixture of smells, colors, and audible sounds.

"Good morning, Sirius," She smiled warmly at Sirius and then at James, "Good morning James, dear."

"Morning, Mum."

"How are you boys feeling this morning?" Mrs. Potter asked conversationally as she dumped her entire haul into the kitchen sink, where the faucet and scrubber sprang into action at once, removing the rich earth from the freshly picked food. James nodded contentedly at her behind his mug, and Sirius said matter-of-factly,

"Much better now that I've had some of your tea, thank you kindly."

Mrs. Potter rested her hands on the counter and looked fondly at them,

"Mmm? Did you have trouble sleeping, Sirius?"

Her eyes traveled over his face in a motherly way and he felt his heart glow. Because of his most unfortunate tendency to mutter and thrash and sometimes even sleepwalk during his dreams, all of the Potters were well aware of the occasional intensity of his nights-although they never pressed him as to what his dreams were about. Which he appreciated very much. But this morning he was trying to push all thoughts of his dreamtime indiscretions from his mind, so he just shook his head and shrugged, returning her warm look.

"Nah... just felt like I needed a bit of extra energy this morning," he looked around the kitchen eagerly, excited by the imminent prospect of eating.

"Did you now?" James was watching him practically bounce around in his chair trying to check on the progress of the vegetables in the sink. Sirius looked down to see his fingers drumming on the dark wood surface of the table, and stopped them abruptly, shrugging nonchalantly at James. Mrs. Potter chuckled again.

"Oh… I will miss you boys when you go off to school again. Believe it or not."

She smiled impishly and came around the counter to stand behind James, tousling his hair and planting a kiss on the top of his head- which he tolerated, Sirius knew, solely because they were in the safety and privacy of home. Then she sang the most beautiful music to Sirius' ears-

"-I was thinking of making brunch so that we could all eat together this morning. I've only had tea, and your father was out the door at six so I'm sure he'll be hungry again when he gets back..."

Her eyes flickered momentarily across the old fashioned front door as she walked back to the sink to sort through her now spotless harvest. James lowered his cup,

"Where is Dad? It's Saturday..."

"Oh, he had to meet with someone from the Prophet. He should be back any minute," Mrs. Potter had her back to them but Sirius could tell from the forced casualness in her voice that she was hiding something from them in her usual sheltering way.

He glanced at James, who was already looking at him with raised eyebrows. That was the thing Sirius loved most about James. They were neck in neck when it came to intelligence in and out of school, which meant (almost) never having to explain anything to each other. The same usually went for Remus too- and Peter... well, you couldn't expect four out of four.

They reached an unspoken agreement to let the matter lie until Mr. Potter arrived home, and Sirius let his mind be distracted by his cozy surroundings. The house was built from rich cuttings of wood, and decorated mostly in red- with splashes of other bright colors poking out here and used for trimming there. There were windows on every wall, so the house was filled throughout the day with varying shades of golden light, and the wireless radio in the living room was on from the time that the first occupant awoke, until the last went to bed. The music mixed with the sunlight accounted for reasons number 2 and 3 that this house was heaven on earth for Sirius.

Mrs. Potter herself was cause for reasons 50-100, he thought as he watched her merrily fixing brunch for them all. Her and James' father were quite old; their age would actually be more suited for grandparenthood, but they were some of the most alive and young-spirited people Sirius knew.

James had been an entirely unexpected surprise at their age, and he had been loved damn well for it. Sirius had always marveled at how...grateful the Potters always seemed towards James, just for being in their lives. And that they took him- the runaway from the notorious house of Black- in with that same warmth and gracious love...it left him in total awe. He was thankful beyond words, and he felt a stab of sadness at the thought of leaving the Potters and their house in two short days.

Abandoning him, his mind began to wander back to the night that he had left Grimmauld Place for the Potters' - the night of the first dream.

He remembered it with guilty clarity; he had finally fallen asleep after hours and hours of storming and panicking and lying despondent in his 'childhood' bedroom, feeling like a caged dragon. He was reeling from a family row that he would remember as one of the worst, and at first the dream had been, to his intense irritation, an exact replay of the scene.

He had been sitting at the long foreboding dinner table with them, eating as fast as he could so he could escape to the relative peace of his room. His mother had been fixing him with an unblinking look of smug, narrow eyed disgust. She was goading him, waiting for him to snap at her so that she could tell him exactly what she thought of him. Knowing full well what she was doing, he rolled his eyes and tried to just ignore her, but to his fury he could feel the Black rage building inside of him with every second that her eyes were on him, and he had indeed snapped.

It was like a bomb had gone off in the frigid dining room, as all four Blacks leapt at the opportunity for the conflict they so craved. His mother was shouting hateful, horrible things at him, and he met her head on with relish. That was one thing that he had on all of them, he thought later with hardly any pleasure; he was by far the smartest. His quick wit angered his mother in particular, who was more in favor of shouting louder and cursing more, rather than saying anything of value. But when she reached a certain hysteria limit, his father would always step in with threats and scare tactics, which spoiled the fun rather quickly.

Sirius was probably also the most stubborn of his family, and would never back down- never let himself feel particularly hurt or defeated about any of it, but that night he had suddenly stopped. His father's wand was trained on him, and threats of the cruciatus curse were being flung around, and just when Sirius was about to scoff and tell him to do it, he just... stopped.

He could feel the blood rushing through his head, could feel everything with such clarity-it was almost as though he had suddenly become Padfoot. Looking around the room and feeling the immense tension in his body, he was suddenly, and for the first time in sixteen years mind you, overwhelmed by having to defend himself.

He was a Black, and the huge boundless dog that represented him in animal form was spot on; he could defend himself to the death. Quite naturally and happily too. But it suddenly hit him that here, in his 'home', the place he had grown up- he shouldn't have to anymore.

He took in his mother, wild eyed and still screaming her disappointment, and his father, who had joined in with the barking voice that made Sirius flinch inwardly with every cracking syllable. And Regulus, who was always pretty quiet during the fights, but who showed a poorly masked pleasure at being the one who did everything right in comparison to Sirius. He suddenly wished with a gut-wrenching ache that someone would help him defend himself and what he thought was right and honorable in this house.

And in reality he had simply turned and left the fight for the first time ever.

But in the dream that came hours later, he stood in the cold stone dining room, head ringing with angry voices, aching for somebody to help him fight because he was bloody exhausted- and Lily Evans was suddenly there. At first it was sheerly ridiculous, and he had watched in confused amusement as bright, bold, hot headed Lily Evans had stormed around the dark room, going head to head with his mother who could only scream over and over that she was a mudblood and she had to get out now. Lily had eventually just laughed good natured-ly, and said,

"Do you know? Nothing would make me happier than to get out of here now. Come on, Sirius," and she had taken his hand, led him out the front door, and into the balmy summer night. She looked back at the shadowy front door of No.13 and shivered, pulling a comically frightened face,

"Bloody hell, man."

She was several inches shorter than him, so when she looked into his face, she was looking up. Her eyes were alight with a playful magic, and Sirius felt giddy like they had just escaped from a pack of Chimaeras. He supposed in a sense, they had.

He had felt a little awkward to be in this situation with Lily Evans, with whom he had never had any kind of real conversation, beyond the teasing and flirting that he and James tried to annoy her with. But he was filled with so much relief and happiness that she had come to his aid, that he let the awkwardness lie, and looked into her face unguardedly.

She held his gaze in a searching way, and he noticed that she had extraordinarily expressive eyes. He could see her thoughts and feelings change clearly from playful, to ponderous, to warmly concerned. He also noticed with some surprise that his stomach swooped and flurried in synch with her changing expressions. She smiled but there was still concern in her eyes,

"Are you okay, Sirius?"

He nodded with a grunt. Her smile widened,

"Just don't go back," she said easily with a little shrug. Simple.

And he had woken up. And the next day he had packed up and left for James' house for good.

He smiled as he remembered the few days after that night. They had been pure blissful freedom. He had been soaring- he had taken matters into his own hands and had changed his own life forever. He never had to go back. And deep down, an extremely foolish and secret part of him had felt grateful to Lily Evans for helping him.

Of course, the rational part of him knew and liked to remind himself often that the Lily in his dream was obviously his own mind, and no one but himself deserved the credit for giving him the courage to leave. That same rational part had also quickly dismissed the giddy swooping feeling he had felt when he looked at her; after all, he had had much more romantic dreams about many more girls, where they did a whole lot more than just look at each other. But it had marked the start of some strange change in him.

When term started for their 6th year at Hogwarts, he found that he didn't have quite the hold on himself that he thought he did. He was quite as free and roguish with girls as he always had been- the story of his escape from his parent's house had made its way around the entire school after a week, embellished with the usual hype of tragedy and danger that had not actually been present. But it added a new facet to the already highly desired persona of 'Sirius Black- Heartbreaker', and he found it nearly doubled the amount of looks, smiles, and coy arm squeezes he received from the female population of Hogwarts.

He had basked in it of course- he was not a nun, as he told a disapproving Remus, but he had not been blind to the shift in his enjoyment...

Jaw set, Sirius caught up with his reeling mind, and firmly halted his thoughts there. A second later, a blissful distraction arrived, as the front door opened and Mr. Potter walked in, looking preoccupied. He was wearing an old muggle suit and a fedora, which he took off with care and placed on a hook over the shelf where they all put their trainers and summer sandals. When he turned towards the kitchen, he realized they were all watching him, and tried to look more cheerful. As he was usually a very naturally cheerful man, this made Sirius instantly wary, and he braced himself for bad news.

"What is it, dad?" James asked, looking just as tense as Sirius felt. Mr. Potter sat unsteadily down next to James and sighed, pulling a newspaper out of his suit pocket.

"It's... well. There were some attacks very late last night," he spoke slowly and gently, and Sirius could tell he was choosing his words with care, "on three prominent wizards. Barry Higgins, Julius Sinclair, and Ralph Burns, I'm not sure if you boys know who they are... but last night at three in the morning, they were all killed in... various ways. Dramatic ways, to make a point, you see. They were all in separate locations, but coordinated to happen at the same time." One of his aged hands moved like a conductor's, directing a single striking beat.

His voice died away, and Sirius' imagination began to fill in the dark parts of the picture that had been left out. He said, "Why?" at the same moment as James said, "Who did it?" Mr. Potter looked at them with tired eyes, but one corner of his mouth pulled up at their identical demeanors of rapt attention.

"Well they were all strong figures for the support of Muggle-Wizard relations," He continued slowly and patiently, "all very fine men. Very fine. Barry Higgins worked in the Improper Use of Magic Office, and has been slowly and tirelessly restructuring the Department to be more understanding of Muggle rights for years and years. Sinclair was a writer for the Prophet who had a sweet weekly column about funny or touching experiences with Muggles... trying to get people to be less afraid of Wizard-Muggle interaction, you know. And Burns was a muggleborn diplomatic representative for England's Wizard-Muggle Relations Department. You can see what kind of a message this sends to the world."

Sirius could. He felt a cold sense of foreboding creeping into his abdomen.

"Between us, Bruno at the Prophet told me that the Dark Mark was sent up above each site. They aren't sure if they're going to release that to the public. Not that it matters-anyone could see that this stems from Voldemort and his followers." Mr. Potter shook his head sadly.

Sirius took in Mr. Potter's genuine heartache and imagined, with a wave of disgust, that across the city of London in Grimmauld Place, his family was almost surely laughing and commending the statement that these attacks had made.

"I fear that this marks a turning point in this... struggle with Voldemort," Mr. Potter said suddenly, with a candor that surprised Sirius. He was so used to the Potters protectively downplaying the struggles of the Wizarding World that he and James could so clearly see for themselves, "To pull off an attack like this, to succeed in making a statement so bold... He must be gaining followers by the day."

"Harry, don't be so disheartened," Mrs. Potter had come to stand behind her husband, looking resolute. She smoothed the shoulders of his jacket, "it is truly a terrible thing, but it will bring out just as fierce of a fight in our side. No one will sit down and let things like this continue to happen."

"You're right Abby," he sighed and took her hand, "I'm sorry boys, I don't mean to put a damper on your last few days of summer," he smiled weakly at them and the energy in the room shifted as Mrs. Potter summoned a platter of fruit to the table, and shot an igniting spell at the burners underneath the kettle, and underneath a huge iron frying pan filled with bacon and eggs.

Slowly, they managed to shake off the sense of darkening in the outside world, safe in the little haven of the Potter's house, and had an enjoyable brunch that left them full to the brim of food, conversation, and jest.

Hours later, Sirius could still feel Mr. Potter's words nagging at the corners of his mind.

He and James were walking side by side down the Main Street of the Wizarding part of Wimborne. The air was warm, and full of the stillness of afternoon giving way to evening. The sun was soft on their backs, and the famous magical crickets of Wimbourne were starting to chirp their song that would soon be an actual symphony. He recognized the first few notes of 'The Fairy and The Lion' from an opera based on Godric Gryffindor that was both the most ridiculous load of dung he had ever heard… and was also Mrs. Potter's favorite.

Which meant he and James inadvertently knew most of the words.

A smile quirked on his lips as he remembered the live show she had dragged the three men of the Potter household to, earlier in the summer. The air was much too still.

"BUT WOULD A WITCH," he burst forth, making James start a little, "SUCH AS THIS, put her charm upon my heart?"

He swept past James to walk ahead of him, serenading the street at large.

"Would she spurn me, curse to burn, if I offered her my arm?" A couple of young girls that Sirius vaguely recognized as Hogwarts students exchanged a wide eyed look as they saw him. He grinned at them and bowed, throwing out a theatrical arm. They exploded into giggles and whispered frantically at each other.

"Would she TAME this wild lion's heart, brush her wings across my CHEEK?" He belted, spinning grandly to face James for the verse's climax. James wore an expression of great amusement, with only the faintest trace of disbelief.

"Would she DARE ME, bear me STRENGTH! If one day I GROW WEAAAAAAK?" Exactly on cue, the crickets' song swelled in the sweet air where he left off, and everyone within earshot of Sirius laughed appreciatively. He bowed as pompously as he could as a smattering of applause rippled through the street.

"Bit young, aren't they?" James asked dubiously as Sirius nodded at the Hogwarts girls, causing his hair to tumble into his eyes. He grinned at them, brushing it back with a careless hand, and they scurried down the street flushed with delight.

"Mmm... they're all young next to my Minerva, Prongs," he said distractedly, watching them go with a smile.

"Urghh, don't."

"What?"

"Don't call her my Minerva. That was disgusting. Can't we draw some small line when it comes to Mcgonagle? You know I'm a visual thinker."

Sirius smiled, "Fine."

James was looking thoughtful, "Girls really do go mad for that sort of rubbish, don't they? Operas and that?"

Sirius made a disinterested noise of half-agreement. James was silent for a moment, and Sirius could hear his next question before it came,

"Do you think Lily Evans knows 'The Fairy and The Lion'?"

"Dunno," he shrugged, noting that he was having to try to sound disinterested, "probably not if she's Muggleborn."

James nodded vaguely and after a few seconds said,

"I think she might come around this year." Sirius rolled his eyes inwardly, feeling much more annoyed than he should, "I don't... I don't mean to be conceited," James said carefully, and in fact, his voice was lacking the bolstered confidence it usually gained when talking about Lily Evans. "I just... If I just relax about it and let her... I just… know she will." He finished abruptly, the tiniest trace of red in his face.

Sirius let his love for James wrestle with his... whatever it was, for a beat, and then said quietly and sincerely,

"I know she will too, mate."

A silence fell between them for several minutes, and he knew without asking that James' thoughts, like his own, had strayed from Lily Evans and were now caught up in Mr. Potter's worry.

They had overheard a few snippets of conversation here and there in town, about the men who had been killed. Mostly, the conversations seemed to be about the men themselves and what an outrage it was that they had been murdered to send a message to the Wizarding World.

But no one seemed to be talking about who had done it. Or how it had been done so efficiently and poignantly. Where the lack of worry in the Wizards around him had once put Sirius' mind at ease, it was now making him feel very uneasy.

He felt more and more as though Voldemort was creeping up on them all. The Wizarding World was still bright and full of happiness, save for an incident every couple of months that would remind them of the darkness lurking on their world's underbelly. The pesky cobwebs of Voldemort and his followers. But the general feeling in the greater population of Witches and Wizards was that they were just that: a pesky, though obviously dangerous, gang of rebels that would eventually be caught by the authorities and stamped out.

But Sirius was starting to feel that underestimation might be exactly what Voldemort was hoping for. He knew enough about the dark wizard from Regulus' impassioned rants, the wide eyed attempts to persuade Sirius to join him at a meeting, to know that Voldemort was incredibly clever. His brother was young and shockingly naive, but Sirius could sense the power and intelligence that the man Voldemort must have to be able to wrap wizards around his fingers so completely. And he felt in his gut that Voldemort was spinning a bigger, much more elaborate web around all of them than anyone realized.

"It feels like everything is about to change, doesn't it?" James spoke suddenly, sounding distant. Sirius looked at him.

He was watching a group of fellow Hogwarts students playing Quidditch in the park in the middle of town. Their carefree shouts of glee were sailing over to the street where he and James stood. Sirius nodded, and James looked back at him. As always, Sirius could see his own thoughts from the past few minutes clouding James' face.

Sirius took in the worry and unease in his best friend's eyes. He took a breath and smiled heartily,

"Yeah... It does. But not quite yet."

And with a playful shove, he shepherded James towards the park, where they were greeted with shouts of friendly recognition, and offered broomsticks and places in the game. And as they took off into the air side by side, Sirius felt that they could indeed outfly it all for a little longer- remain young for a little while more.

The time to worry was not now.